


Domestic Bliss

by clubstocrews23



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i got a cavity writing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 15:40:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18641080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clubstocrews23/pseuds/clubstocrews23
Summary: Lucas and Eliott go shopping for their brand-new apartment, aka, the start of the rest of their lives together.





	Domestic Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> As I said on the last one, I write these pretty quickly, so I appreciate any editing advice so long as it's given nicely. If you enjoy it, please leave a comment-- they mean a lot to me :)

Lucas never thought he could feel so strongly about a rubber succulent, yet here he is in the plant aisle of a furniture store arguing with the love of his life over which shade of green best matches their curtains.

“I am sure that it’s this one,” says Eliott, pointing to a fabulous shade of lime. 

Lucas holds up a darker variation. “And you’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong. Yellow curtains, lime green.”

“They’re more tan than yellow. Ergo, forest green.”

“Lucas, I love you, but _lime_.”

When they moved into their new apartment yesterday, it came to Eliott’s attention that he didn’t have anything to decorate with besides some of his drawings and some tape. Lucas had one or two framed photos and a poster. They’d never had a whole flat to themselves before; Eliott lived with his parents and Lucas lived with Mika. No need to make stylistic choices. Eliott insisted that they go to a home improvement store as soon as possible to remedy this problem, and here they are.

“Lime green is tacky,” Lucas says. 

“You’re tacky.”

“Fuck you.”

Eliott winks. “Let’s wait until tonight for that.”

“C’mon.”

“You love me.”

They agree to come back for the succulents once they’re done with everything else, which is code for knowing neither one of them will  _win_  the argument but neither will fold. Lucas leads them into the photo frame aisle. He has a picture printed of the two of them to hang when they get home as a tiny surprise for Eliott, so he needs an eight-by-ten frame. Eliott has his own set of ideas.

There are more than he ever could have imagined. Who knew there could be so many different designs for something so simple as a picture? He settles on a black one that he can carry around without Eliott noticing and slips it into his coat pocket.

“Okay, trust me on this,” Eliott begins, scanning the expanse. “We get like twenty of those collage frames–” He gestures to a nine-photo frame at the top of a display. “–and add one picture to them for every year we spend together.”

“That adds to one hundred eighty years.”

Eliott looks back at Lucas. “Are you planning on leaving me before then?”

“I guess not.”

“You guess?” 

Eliott goes in for the hug, but Lucas doesn’t want his boyfriend to the feel the picture frame beneath his jacket, so he leans forward for a kiss instead. Eliott seems satisfied. It’s moments like these that Lucille was talking about, Lucas decides, when she said little things made the bad stuff worth it. Even a half an hour of flat-shopping with Eliott outweighs an entire month of feeling helpless. 

He should say that. He should let Eliott know how much this means to him, to have him here. “Collages are a suburban mom move.” That should suffice.

Eliott laughs. “You know, you’ve changed.” 

 “What do you mean by that?”

Lucas watches as his boyfriend stands on his tiptoes to grab one of the collage frames anyway. “I mean that when I met you, your room looked a hoarder lived there. Now you have decoration opinions.” He tucks it under his arm to grab another, calculating the math in his head. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Well, you were the idiot who fell in love with me. Dug your own grave.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but Eliott’s face goes serious. “Don’t say that. I never meant to fall in love with you. I just did.Best thing that ever happened to me.” He looks into Lucas’s eyes. Eliott has a way of speaking where everything else in the world filters away and it’s just the two of them in their own private bubble, and a furniture store does nothing to dull the intimacy.

Eliott takes Lucas’s hand (it requires some effort on Lucas’s part to keep the smaller frame concealed) and kisses it, before leading them out of the frame aisle. He takes the collage frames too, and Lucas doesn’t have the heart to stop him.

* * *

It’s Lucas’s idea to repaint their new second room. Eliott practically faints when he sees the wall of paint samples stacked in layers upon layers on the shelf. Even when they repainted the fresque, there were limits on their creativity, and both of them were too nervous about the potential of their reunion to plan out a sensible mural to paint. Now, Eliott is unbounded.

“Okay,” he breathes. “So we’re going to need pink, blue, and a new base color.”

And Lucas thought there were a lot of  _frames_! Most of the hue varieties here look the same until examined up close, and then the slightest shift in saturation makes all the difference. Maybe it’s because the last time he worked with this medium ended in sex that got it absolutely everywhere– including unsavory places– and they just didn’t care, but Lucas feels a little daunted by the choices. He doesn’t understand how Eliott makes decisions.

Eliott has other things on his mind. He pulls down six different paint chips, and holds a set of blue shades next to Lucas’s eyes. “These will be our wedding colors, don’t you think?”

Lucas takes the sample. “Cobalt blue and indigo?” He thinks he already owns a tie in one of these colors, or at least Arthur lent him one at some point. Maybe it was Yann’s?

“Yeah, and some purple. We can use bellflowers.” 

It makes Lucas feel warm inside to know that Eliott is already planning their wedding, even if he hasn’t proposed. It used to make him feel on edge, like their conversation on the houseboat, but Lucas tries not to take everything as a symptom of Eliott’s sickness if he doesn’t have to. Plus, Eliott’s been taking the pills. Lucas doesn’t have to worry.

“I’m thinking our wedding colors will be more…” He looks across the display. “…green. ‘Cause we’ll do it in the park.”

“Blue,” Eliott retorts, “because we’ll do it under the tunnel.”

“No, the park.”

“The tunnel. Hear me out.” They lean in close together, Lucas holding the paint between them as Eliott speaks. “We’ll do it at night, when it’s pitch-black, only the two of us lit up with flashlights.” Lucas closes his eyes to imagine it. Eliott continues, “We’ll paint something on the inside of the tunnel when we’re done. Something washable, ‘cause I don’t want to get arrested.”

“Keep going.”

“Afterwards, we’ll lay out a blanket on the ground outside and look at the stars–”

“Okay, you’ve won me over.”

“Of course I have.”

* * *

They take a break in their shopping trip to pick up lunch at a nearby cafe. Eliott lugs around the collage frames in a large plastic bag and half a dozen paint swatches in his pockets. They share a milkshake. Eliott is halfway through his burger when he sets it back down in a moment of revelation.

“Second room should be teal! Base-color teal!” He digs in his pocket to produce the matching sample. “Look at that. It’s perfect.”

Lucas steals one of Eliott’s fries. “It’s a bit vibrant.” He wipes the oil that lingers on his fingertips onto Eliott’s t-shirt.

“That’s why it’s perfect. Picture this.” Eliott gestures grandly over the table. “If we paint it like that, we can use it for a baby’s room in the future, but it won’t be horribly childish right now. Teal works with respectful artwork  _and_ baby motifs. Best of both worlds, don’t you think?”

Lucas freezes. “What did you just say?”

“The room should be teal,” says Eliott, like it’s obvious.

“Yes, but what room?”

“The spare room. The one you wanted to repaint.” He says it as if it’s no big deal to mention possibly having children together. 

“We’re going to have kids?”

Eliott tilts his head from side to side as he looks at the paint swatches in his fist. Forest green and tan happen to be juxtaposed on the same one as the teal, not like Lucas will bring that up again. “At least one, right?”

“I’m eighteen.”

“I didn’t say now.”

“But eventually?”

“If it’s what you want.”

How can Eliott just say dramatic things like that without panicking a little bit? Lucas feels a knot in the pit of his stomach, telling him that this could be a symptom of mania, but he pushes it down. Eliott can think extravagantly outside of his disorder. He’s irrational now because he’s irrationally in love.

Instead of worrying, Lucas throws a French fry so that Eliott can catch it in his mouth. He takes a mental snapshot of the event so he can remember it forever. If he had a camera on his person, he would use this photo in the eight-by-ten frame instead of the one at home– a picture of him and Eliott at this same cafe on their first real dinner date. Eliott misses, and the fry leaves a smear of ketchup on his cheek. 

“Is it what  _you_  want?” he asks Eliott, reaching across to rub the ketchup away.

There’s that look again, where the joking words have suddenly become completely serious. Once more, Eliott makes it just the two of them. “I want a lot of things for us, eventually.”

“And one of them isn’t a bigger apartment before we have kids?”

They join hands in the center of the table. Eliott doesn’t answer Lucas’s question, but they both know it wasn’t asked to be answered. The main point of this conversation is to show each other that they’re both in it for the long run, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day.

“Well then,” says Lucas, adding a gloating air to his tone, “I expect to be compensated with a marriage proposal.”

“Your wish is my command, love.”

They lean in across the table to kiss. Lucas has no idea how he ever lived without Eliott by his side.

* * *

It’s 21h before they arrive home. Eliott wanted to go back to the home store so they could pick up both of the rubber succulents because, really, it wasn’t something to argue over. They’d headed halfway back to the apartment before remembering that they’d also gone out to pick up kitchenware (all that was in Lucas’s old flat belonged to Manon and Mika) and had to turn around to find a shop still open.

Yet, through all of it, Lucas never felt unhappy. He thinks back to the time before Eliott, when he was scared of himself and everyone around him, when he would do anything to keep his secrets locked away inside. Eliott is right, he has changed. If you were to introduce the old him to the new him, they wouldn’t recognize each other. His life has made a one-eighty degree turn. 

They drop the bags down in their apartment.  _Their_  apartment. Tonight, they’ll move the piano back into the corner and arrange the succulents in the window. Eliott will put up the painter’s tape in their second room and maybe they’ll start painting the wall just for the fun of it. They’ll unload the picture frames and the new plates and silverware and maybe,  _maybe_ , Lucas will spend the night looking at adoption programs on the internet because  _maybe_ that idea excites him. 

He knew it before, from the conversations they’ve shared over the day, but it hits Lucas as he steps across the doorframe into their shared bedroom. From here on in, it’s domestic bliss. It’s Lucas and Eliott together forever.

He sets their photo on the nightstand.


End file.
